Relief and light filled Mercy as she stepped out of the home. An overwhelming sense of sadness had permeated the air inside the house, and she wondered if Salome and Morrigan would ever live in the home again. If it’d been my mother, I couldn’t. But perhaps Salome had no other options. Mercy slid open the barn door and welcomed its rush of scents; they were the smells of the living. Hay, animals, dirt, and even manure. The atmosphere of life soothed her after the deathly air of the house.

If this is the reverence Wiccans feel for nature, I understand.

The pygmy goats pressed their noses between the boards, begging for attention, and Mercy was pleased to see a pile of fresh alfalfa and some grain in a low trough. Ava leaned over the pen wall to scratch eager heads, delight on her face. “Gosh, they’re cute.”

Mercy moved closer to pet one and caught her breath, staring at the black goat. It had a pink bow tied around one ear. Two days earlier Mercy had watched another goat yank the bow off its ear, and Morrigan had rolled her eyes in exasperation because she’d just tied it on. When they’d left the barn, the ribbon had been draped over the rail, out of the reach of the goats.

“They were here,” she announced, unable to pull her gaze off the cheerful black goat nuzzling Ava’s hand.

“How do you know?” Eddie asked, and Mercy shared her story of sitting in the pen with Morrigan and the goats.

“I don’t think any of the county deputies would bother to tie a bow on the goat’s ear,” she pointed out.

Ava agreed, turning to study the rest of the barn. “What did Salome and Morrigan do here in the middle of the night? No doubt they also went in the house. I couldn’t tell anyone had entered since it was sealed up.”

“I bet Salome sent Morrigan to the barn, keeping her out of the home,” said Mercy. “Especially once she saw the crime scene tape.”

“Where’s the workroom with the little elf houses?” Eddie asked.

Mercy led the way, not surprised that Salome had been to the property. No doubt she waited until she saw the deputies leave.

She stepped back and gestured for Eddie and Ava to enter the workroom, enjoying their exclamations at the sights. Mercy was pleased the houses hadn’t been disturbed by the evidence teams. The small row of knives had been removed, but no black powder covered the miniature works of art on the shelves.

“I heard the officers got light-headed in here,” Ava said. “Anyone notice anything?”

They all inhaled deeply, looking from one to another.

Mercy felt nothing. And judging by the other faces, they didn’t either.

“Huh,” said Ava. “Something must have been stirred up in here at that time. Seems okay now.”

“Morrigan said she sells these houses, right?” Eddie asked. “Where are her records of sales? How does she advertise them? Or does she take them somewhere to sell? It might be a good starting place to track her movements.”

“Good points, Eddie,” agreed Ava. “There wasn’t a computer in the house, so I bet she keeps a laptop with her.” She snapped her fingers. “What about Etsy? That online store where people sell their crafts? This stuff is perfect to sell on there. I bet she has a storefront on the website . . . or maybe on a similar site.” Speculation gleamed in her eyes. “Would the Portland computer forensics lab be able to pinpoint a location she accessed her storefront from? You know . . . like see the IP address if she signed in on another Wi-Fi?”

Mercy and Eddie exchanged a look. “I have no idea,” admitted Mercy. “That’s a question for the computer guys. They intimidate the hell out of me. I never know if they’re going to laugh at my question and tell me I watch too many movies, or roll their eyes because I have the computer knowledge of an eighth grader.”

“I suspect you just insulted a lot of eighth graders,” Eddie added.

Mercy didn’t disagree.

The three of them left the craft room and stopped to scratch goat heads on their way out of the barn. Outside they paused and considered the property one last time. “Gorgeous,” Ava said under her breath as she looked up at the snowy pines against the blue sky. “But too damned isolated for me . . . and that’s saying a lot. I like my alone time.”

“I’m with you,” Eddie added. Mercy said nothing.

“Mercy, how far away is your cabin?” Ava asked. “You were headed back to town, right?” Ava smiled as she asked the question, but Mercy felt as if she were in an interrogation spotlight.

“It’s about ten minutes in the other direction.”

“I’d love to see it. Is it as quiet as this place?”

Her stomach churned. “I think we should head to the office. There’s not much to see and yes, it’s very quiet. As isolated as this home.” She wasn’t ready to share her secret.

“Why were you driving so late?” Ava asked.

“Because I arrived at the cabin late. That evening was the first chance I’d had to check the place since the last snowstorm. I did what I needed to do, made certain the snow hadn’t caused any damage, and left. I didn’t plan to stay overnight.” She steadied her breathing.

“Morrigan was lucky that night,” Eddie said.

“Definitely,” agreed Ava.

They trudged across the snow toward her Tahoe, and Mercy stepped across the multiple ruts left by the law enforcement vehicles. A dozen different tire treads were imprinted in the snow. Wide ones and thin ones, mostly with large snow-eating treads to grip unplowed roads. She lifted a boot to step into the widest one and stopped, her foot in midair. “Wait a minute,” she said. “Don’t move.”

Ava and Eddie obeyed and then looked at her expectantly.

Mercy looked at the tracks to her left and to her right, her confidence building. “Look at this track.” She pointed to the one she’d nearly stepped in. “It’s huge. And I crossed its mate several steps back.”

“That’s a wide vehicle,” Eddie agreed. “Must be one of the evidence vans.”

“No,” Mercy disagreed. “Those vans are probably narrower than my Tahoe. This vehicle is wide.”

“Christian Lake’s Hummer,” stated Ava.

“That’s my first thought too,” Mercy said.

Eddie looked from Mercy to Ava and back to the tracks. “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” he said slowly. “Those tracks could have been made by a lot of different vehicles.” His tone lacked conviction.

“I knew Christian was lying when he said he didn’t know the Sabins.” Mercy’s mind spun with possibilities. “This track overlaps nearly all the other ones. He’s been here recently.”

Ava had her phone in hand. “I’ll get an evidence team out here to take a mold of the tracks. Then I’ll ask Christian to let us print his tires.”

“He won’t agree to that. Get a warrant first,” Mercy said. “And you can’t make a call out here. You’ll have to wait until we go down the road a few miles.”

“Crap.” Ava pocketed her phone. “Warrants take time. I’ve found asking the owner for permission works a lot faster.” She batted her eyelashes. “People don’t like saying no to me. We’ll get a warrant if he refuses me.”

Mercy studied the deep tracks again.

Why was Christian Lake at the Sabins’?